Chapter 57

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Eli saved me once, but I knew it wasn’t going to be long before West returned. When he did, he’d want to continue. He’d want to rape me while I was drugged. I couldn’t let that happen. To have me sober was bad enough, but under the influence while I couldn’t move was something I refused to endure again. That’s why I’d showered as fast as I could while he was gone. If I could offer an excuse, it was better than nothing.

My mind drifted into the haze of what I could only assume was insanity. My actions, my thoughts, raced. Focusing didn’t last for long. I couldn’t stop shaking. Every time flashes of what I’d done surfaced, the sickness I felt was overwhelming. I had helped prepare Julie. I had cut and peeled down the skin of a girl who had trusted me probably more than she did anyone here. My brain wouldn’t accept what I was becoming. I couldn’t accept it.

Faster, I paced the length of our living area.

What was I going to do? If I killed West, I’d go to the White Room to await my death in City Center. If I managed to somehow do it without bringing suspicion on myself, I’d go to Slave Row to be sold again. My next owner could be Master Kunken. And then I’d be Julie …

My hand pressed against my mouth as nausea had me nearly becoming ill.

Get over it. It happened and you did beautifully. Your mind is just weak. West’s words came floating in out of nowhere. He was right. Where I had moments of strength, I had moments of weakness. Crippling moments that stole away reality. It left me here, blurring through this fog until my wits returned. I didn’t like it. I wanted to be stronger. To have nothing affect me so West couldn’t find ways to hurt me anymore. I wanted the blurring to stop from the corner of my vision. It kept stealing my attention. It was like someone was there, even though I knew no one was.

Clips of me and the temporary high leader’s conversations somehow surfaced. He talked of games. Of control, when I’d spent time in The Cradle. Even though I knew the significance, I couldn’t process it in the moment. All I was beginning to feel was anger from the way my life was turning out. Anger and hatred toward West for the things he’d done. It ruled me in the moment … and tempted me to do things I shouldn’t.

A dark blur had me jerked my head to the side. I froze at West standing in the doorway. I hadn’t even heard it open, I was so lost within myself.

“Who am I looking at, my wife, or the fragile, little slave?”

I stood taller, keeping my eyes on his as I walked forward. “Your wife. I must apologize for my behavior. You were right. My mind is weak.

Forgive me.”

The door shut at his push. The glare he cast followed me as he walked over to the bar and poured himself a drink. When he shrugged his jacket off, the blood splattered across his button-up shirt caused my entire body to twitch. I tried to push away my reactions as I licked my lips, braving closer.

“What happened down there?”

“Games.” He paused, throwing back the shot. The annoyance disappeared as he placed down the empty glass. “The Masters have quite the affinity for violence. More so than I could have hoped. They’ve taken to this change with open arms. Their imagination surpasses anything I could have hoped. It seems one of the masters here is a professional fighter. He’s taught his slave some of his skills.” He laughed, shaking his head at whatever he was thinking. “Apparently, he told another master that his slave could kick the master’s ass. It started as a joke, but long story short, the crowd went wild and began to instigate the situation with yells and remarks. The master didn’t take well to that and hit the girl. He broke her nose, but the moment Master Max gave the command, the girl demolished him. It

was outstanding. Like nothing I’ve ever seen before.” My stare dropped back down to his shirt.

“Did you …?”

“Fight her?”

“Yes,” I said, taking in the pleasure on his face.

“No. After she won, a bigger fight broke out. One between the men who placed bets. It appears they weren’t clear on the rules. I took care of it.” Lust masked his face and West closed the difference between us, stopping to tower over me. “You see, wife, most of the men down here are all just dying to release the storm that churns inside of them. I’ve seen this for years. They didn’t have to physically fight to settle this, but that was their first reaction. The rage is who we are. It’s a living thing, seething within, and begging to be set free. I gave them that. We build, we erupt, and there we thrive. It’s the steps. Just like fighting, drinking, and fucking. Now, take off your clothes.”

I didn’t argue or focus on my need for revenge. I grabbed the straps to the loose dress and drew them over my shoulders, letting the material drift to my feet. West followed my action, ripping off his shirt and bringing his hand toward me. Cuts and dried blood were over a few of his knuckles. He groped my breast, rolling my nipple between his thumb and index finger as he massaged. When he gripped hard, I cried out, grabbing to his wrist.

“If you ever fucking fight me like you did before, I will treat you like the slave you were portraying. My wife listens. She obeys. When I tell her to get in the damn bathtub, she goes.” He spun me, dragging me to the sofa. Roughly, he pushed his hand on my back, bending me over the arm of the couch. “When I tell her I want to fuck her, what does she say?”

A million words whispered through my mind—a million manipulations.

“Don’t go easy,” I said, looking back at him.

A smile exploded across his face and his body lowered against mine. “You don’t have to worry about that. Maybe I’ll tear you apart.” Suction tugged at the junction of my neck and shoulder and I prepared as his fingers rubbed over my slit. My lids immediately closed and I drew far back into my memories. So far away that I could almost hear Bram’s moans surrounding me.

“Fuck yes. I knew you’d bounce back fast. I knew the woman I’ve seen in the last few days was stronger than some broken slave crying over a little blood.”

I barely heard West’s words. His fingers were pushing into me, moving faster as his arm locked under my chin. I didn’t grab at the hold. I didn’t even want to acknowledge the fear that spiked at the action. Let him choke me. Let him do whatever he wanted. Here, I had control. I could fight if it came down to it. More than I could, the oil. But I knew even though I could, I wouldn’t. Not if I wanted more power over him. And I could do it. I

could rule him. Instinct told me it was possible.

“More,” I moaned.

My plea was demanding and he took the bait almost instantly.

West’s arm tightened and his fingers disappeared from inside of me. When his cock pressed against my entrance, my teeth clenched through the hate of my situation—of him—of myself.

“God … dammit!”

I screamed right along with his words, feeling my legs kick out as he plunged into me. His arm was like a metal collar around my neck. It was heavy against my throat, fastening around me like it was locking me in, promising a lifetime of no escape to the slave in my core. With each brutal thrust, it secured even more, cutting off my air. My hands shot up and I intentionally let my nails bite into his skin.

“More. More!” I thrashed in his hold, feeling like the mad woman I was becoming. I could barely catch my breath as he slammed into me, repeatedly. I didn’t think. I let my nails tear down his arm with all of my rage. Tears flowed from my eyes while I fought. The chuckling behind me was anything but amused. His arm dropped from my neck so fast, that I wasn’t prepared for the fingers that ripped into my hair, forcing my head down even more. If I had thought he was going hard before, I hadn’t a clue of his strength.

“You’re feistier than I gave you credit for. How much can you take before you go back on your ‘more’?”

“I’ll take what you give.”

West pushed into my back, harder, pulling my head more toward him. He was arching me so far that my hands shot out before me and I

bucked to break his hold. When I drew my knee up and planted it in the leather, it took everything I had to wiggle free beneath him. His hands scrambled, catching my hips. He yanked back on me, surging deep into my channel. Maybe he saw it as a game, but I didn’t. I truly wanted to best him any way I could. The pure fact that I could get loose was enough to keep me from truly attacking him.

“Jesus. Get the fuck up here, wife.” West let go, grabbing my shoulder to pull me up so that I was back against him. The moment his chest connected, he wrapped his arms around tightly, hugging onto me as he slowed the pace. It was almost passionate—loving. “Kiss me.”

My head angled and his lips met mine with hunger that was almost impossible to fake. Deeper, he thrust into me, grinding his hips into my ass. I gasped, breaking away long enough to take in oxygen from the pain. His hand brought me back to him and his tongue pushed into my mouth while he held me there. I could feel him swelling inside of me, getting thicker as he got closer. Cries left me and he drank them in as he nearly crushed me with his arms.

“I could learn to love this,” he said, lowly, moaning next to my ear.

“Love you.”